


There'll be Stars in our Eyes

by Bus_Kids_Burgade (Inthemorninglight)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Ladies of SHIELD, Mama May and her Ducklings, Post S4, vacation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthemorninglight/pseuds/Bus_Kids_Burgade
Summary: May takes (forces) the girls on an impromptu vacation.





	There'll be Stars in our Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [26stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/gifts).



> Fic Exchange for 26Stars who asked for fluff and a vacation fic with the ladies of shield!

“I don’t get it,” Daisy says.

 

She tips her head to the side as if a different angle might turn the vehicle in front of them into something other than a maroon minivan, palm tree air freshener dangling in the windshield and all. 

 

“Are we going undercover as soccer moms?” Elena asks dubiously. 

 

“Did we crash all the black SUV’s?” Daisy wonders. “Is this our punishment for reckless driving?” 

 

“Load up and get in,” May says, wrenching open one of the sliding doors. 

 

“Um, Agent May?” Jemma teeters a little. “You haven’t told us what the mission is yet. I wasn’t sure what equipment to pack so - “

 

“It’s not a mission,” May tells them. 

 

All three exchange a look. 

 

“But you said - “ Jemma starts. 

 

“I said pack a bag and meet me in the garage. I didn’t say anything about a mission.” 

 

Daisy raises her hand. “Then, if I may, what the hell are we  _ doing _ down here?”

 

Elena leans over to mutter in Jemma’s ear, “Is she trying to kidnap us? Because her technique needs some serious work.”

 

May turns around to face them squarely and crosses her arms. “We’re taking a vacation.” 

 

She’s met with three blank looks. 

 

“A what now?” Daisy asks.

 

“Is she a robot again?” Elena”s hand hovers over her icer. 

 

May scowls.  

 

Jemma lets out a small, nervous laugh. “We can’t just leave, just like that. We don’t take vacations.” 

 

“That,” May says seriously. “Is my point. It’s been one hell of a year and what we need right now is a break. So put your stuff in the back and grab a seat.” 

 

“What about the guys?” Elena asks. 

 

“I can’t just leave Fitz -”

 

“Coulson’s up to his neck right now -” 

 

“They need a break too,” May interjects. “They need a break. You need a break. And a break from each other isn’t the worst idea in the world.” (Jemma swallows hard and looks down, and Daisy’s fingers brush subconsciously over her own cheek.) “We all just need some room to breathe, so we’re taking a vacation.” 

 

May climbs into the driver’s seat and slams the door, and when they keep standing there gaping at the maroon minivan, she rolls the window down and gives them a look over the top of her sun glasses. “This isn’t optional.” 

 

…

 

The drive is long and quiet and maybe, Daisy starts to think after a while, maybe it  _ is _ exactly what they need. 

 

Elena hums to the radio and May drives way too fast. Jemma flips through all the lab reports she managed to grab before May threatened to drag her to the van by the ear. They stop at a diner and order pancakes even though it’s two in the afternoon. Daisy and Elena rate the dirty graffiti at a rest stop bathroom and send pictures of the most prolific to Mack and Fitz. They make Jemma try on 80’s sunglasses and ridiculous hats at a gas station, and Daisy whines until May buys them all giant blue slushies. 

 

But mostly they’re just speeding along the highway, for once not to a crisis or from a crisis or with one going on around them. She’s not left alone with the soundtrack of her own spinning thoughts. For the first time in a long time, Daisy has the opportunity to let her eyes fall half closed and let someone else make the decisions, to not have to think about what to do next and who they’re missing. 

 

…

 

Night has settled around them like a blanket and Daisy’s half asleep with her forehead pressed against the cool glass when the minivan finally rolls to a stop. The sudden lack of motion brings her to full consciousness with a start and she jerks upright, rubbing her neck and squinting out the window.

 

“Where are we?” All she can see is the gnarled silhouettes of branches against a velvet blue sky and a couple other SUVs shining in the moonlight. 

 

“We’re here,” May says simply. 

 

“Please tell me this isn’t the kind of vacation where we’ll be peeing in the woods,” Elena says, staring suspiciously out her own window. 

 

May opens her door and in the sudden flood of automatic lights, Daisy sees her roll her eyes. “Get your things and come on.” 

 

The air is sweet and piney outside the van, warm and gentle, and although she can’t see very far in the darkness, Daisy gets a sense of expansiveness. There are crickets singing all around them, loud enough to make her hair stand on end.

 

“It’s quite dark,” Jemma observes, taking Daisy’s proffered hand as she climbs out of the back seat. “We must be away from most metro areas.” 

 

Daisy notices the anxious crease in her brow and May must too because she hands Jemma her bag from the trunk and says, “We’re not camping.” 

 

Then she turns and starts up a rutted path through the shrubs and towering trees. The three of them exchange another look before following. 

 

It only takes a few minutes of shuffling through the dark, guided by the light of Daisy’s phone, before they finally see where they’re being taken.

 

“Oh,” Jemma breathes, stopping short as they round a bend in the path and come upon a small village of log cabins. They’re spaced out generously beneath the forest of pine trees with railed porches and wooden walkways crisscrossing between them, lanterns glowing softly beside most of the doors, and beach towels hung out to dry over the railings like brightly colored banners fluttering in the breeze. There’s a faint scent of smoke from a bonfire and the sound of people in the distance singing or laughing. 

 

“Wow,” Daisy murmurs, the quaintness catching her by surprise. 

 

May is way ahead of them by now, already climbing the steps to a cottage on the far edge of the thoroughfare, and they scramble to catch up. 

 

“This is not peeing in the woods,” Elena says approvingly. 

 

“It’s still the middle of nowhere,” Daisy says. 

 

“There’s a town a few miles away,” Jemma pipes up as May digs out the key. “I saw it on the GPS. With minigolf and water parks and things.”

 

“Go karts?” Elena asks hopefully. 

 

Daisy heaves her bag more securely over her shoulder. “As long as there’s a bar, I’m satisfied.”      

 

“I’m glad you approve,” May says as the door swings inward and they traipse across the threshold. “But the place wasn’t my idea.” 

 

And that’s when they notice light already coming from the kitchen. 

 

“But who -” Jemma starts to wonder. Before she can finish the question, however, it’s answered. 

 

Daisy can feel the grin spreading across her face, wide and ridiculous and she doesn’t even care. Her backpack slides to the floor with a heavy thump. 

 

“Bobbi.” 

 

Bobbi Morse, tall and graceful even in a Star Wars t-shirt and holding a bottle of rum, grins right back at them from the kitchen doorway. “Da, Sestra.”

 

There’s a lot of squealing and hugging and maybe a little crying, mostly from Jemma and Daisy. May, aside from not partaking in such activities, has clearly not been as cut off as the rest of them, and Elena, whose last interaction with Bobbi involved kidnapping, merely offers a somewhat awkward wave. 

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Daisy demands once she’s sufficiently squeezed the daylights out of Bobbi.

 

“Checking up,” Bobbi says. She’s still got her arm around Jemma’s shoulders. Her face sobers a little as she looks them all over. “I heard some of the stuff you guys’ve gotten up to since we left. Thought we could all use a little time to regroup.”

 

“Yeah, like a century or two,” Daisy mutters, and there’s a quiet lull as they all shift a little, trying not to think too much about the things they’ve gotten up to since Bobbi left. 

 

“So,” Bobbi says, putting some more energy behind her words. “May and I decided to put our foot down. For the next week at least, barring only the most extreme of world-ending calamities, we are not agents or fugitives or vigilantes. We are just people with no responsibilities and a right to do absolutely nothing. Now, who wants a drink?”

 

…

The resort is small and out-of-the-way. A midwestern haven for suburban families, mostly. It isn’t the kind of place any of them would have thought to book a stay, but somehow it works perfectly. As Bobbi puts it, Beyonce could be lying poolside and no one would look twice because what on earth would Beyonce be doing here? So no one recognizes Quake in a sunhat and watermelon bikini. No one even knows who Mockingbird is, let alone that she’s an international fugitive. 

 

There are three pools scattered across the grounds. They avoid the largest, situated conveniently next to the clubhouse and always filled to bursting with screaming children. The closest one to their cabin has apparently been claimed by the 60+ crowd and they give looks that could maim to anyone who lingers too long at the fence. But the third pool, although a bit of a hike, is relatively quiet. Their only company are some college students who are happy to share their booze and the occasional single aunt seeking a brief respite from the family reunion. 

 

It’s late in the afternoon on their first full day. They spent almost the entire day sunbathing and sleeping and cheating at cards by the pool, and now Elena is teaching Jemma a new recipe and Bobbi’s braiding clovers into Daisy’s long hair while she attempts to throw Donkey Kong out of the ring on Super Smash Bros. 

 

May’s movements are casual as she sidles over to the stereo. It looks like she’s just fiddling idly with the sound system, startling everyone when pop music blares suddenly from the speakers. She shrugs at the raised eyebrows she gets, turns the volume down to a more acceptable level, and folds herself into a place at the table to peruse the paper.

 

But she’s watching Daisy over the top of the headlines. Because normally Daisy would have blasted the radio the moment she set eyes on it. Normally Daisy would have initiated karaoke on the drive up. Normally Daisy is bursting with music and dance moves and can hardly hold herself still. But lately she hasn’t. And May knows why. Of course she knows why. They all know why. 

 

May used to think losing the softer, shinier parts of yourself was an inescapable result of trauma. She used to think it was even necessary to keep going. This was before she had to stand by and watch pieces of agents hardly more than kids when she found them flake away, and decided this cannot be the rule she lives by. 

 

Daisy does not burst into song at once. There isn’t much indication that she’s noticed the radio or the upbeat summer hit filling the cabin. Except that her fingers have tightened on the controler, her focus a little to laser-beam than necessary for the task at hand. 

Bobbi finishes the braid with a flourish and hops off the couch to try to steal some food from the kitchen. May lays her paper down. She stands, crosses the few steps to the couch, perches on the arm to watch Daisy finish her last round on the Xbox, and when she’s done, offers a hand. 

 

It’s an innocuous enough gesture, and if Daisy ignores it, May will let it rest. Not forever maybe, but a little longer. The look Daisy raises, first to the hand then up to May’s face, is full of incredulity. As far as Daisy knows, May has never busted out a move in her life. May lets a little bit of a mischievous smirk creep onto her face. 

 

Daisy sucks on the inside of her cheek. Takes a deep breath. Accepts the challenge. May pulls her to her feet, and then they’re dancing. Bouncing in place, tossing their hair around. Daisy can’t help but burst out laughing at the site of May headbanging. She doubles up for a moment, hands on her knees and guffawing, and this brings the others into the living room too, Bobbi grinning, Jemma open-mouthed, and Elena eyeing her form approvingly. 

 

“No need to look so surprised,” May says, still moving to the beat of the song. “I’m from the  _ era  _ of rock and roll.” 

 

This is too much for Daisy, who drops to the floor, face in her hands. Elena bounces over to pull her upright again, and Bobbi grabs Jemma’s hand and twirls her into the room. Someone cranks the music up and it isn’t long before Daisy’s shouting the lyrics and jumping off the couch and May hasn’t smiled like this in she isn’t sure how long. 

 

...  

 

“We should go into town,” Elena says a few days in. They’ve done little else but hang out by the pool or the fire or the xbox and while that’s been blissfully relaxing, there’s a whole settlement of amusing things to do only twenty minutes down the road.  

 

She and Daisy are shooting a water grenade back and forth to each other across the deep end. It’s painted like a clownfish but barrels through the water faster than any children’s toy has the right to, and Daisy dives to catch it before it can ricochet off the side of the pool and cost her a point.

 

“Half a point to Elena,” Bobbi says. 

 

“I caught it!” Daisy objects, lifting the grenade over her head as proof.

 

Bobbi props herself up on the raft she’s sunning herself on. “With two hands. Don’t think I missed that sloppy form.”

 

Daisy sticks her tongue out and surreptitiously (although she doesn’t think the college students are sober enough to notice) sends a small wave rippling across the pool to upend Bobbi’s raft. 

 

“Brat,” Bobbi splutters when she surfaces, but she’s laughing. 

 

“Anyway, town?” Elena asks, getting back on the subject.

 

Daisy and Bobbi are occupied in a water fight that should be more one-sided than it actually is given that one of them has superpowers, so Elena kicks her way to the edge of the pool and poses the suggestion to May and Jemma, both immersed in an apparently intense game of poker. 

 

“They have a farmer’s market,” Jemma says, frowning at her hand in apparent consternation. 

 

“And rollercoasters,” Elena adds eagerly. “And like ten different waterparks.”

 

“Are we going to a waterpark?” Daisy asks, splashing her way out of Bobbi’s range. 

 

“They have the longest waterslide in the country,” Elena tells her.

 

“I haven’t been to a waterpark since that op in Disney World,” Bobbi muses, joining the group in a few languid strokes. 

 

“I haven’t been to a waterpark since… ever,” Daisy says.

 

And this apparently settles it. The three of them dive into the task of deciding which parks and rides must take priority for Daisy’s first waterpark experience, climbing out of the pool to crowd around Daisy’s tablet and debating the merits of this or that attraction. 

 

May doesn’t miss the way Jemma, who usually has all kinds of opinions on the analytical comparison process, says not a word. Nor has she failed to notice that, despite spending the last few days poolside, Jemma hasn’t even broken out a swimsuit. 

 

“We can stay here if you want,” May offers quietly, laying down her royal flush. 

 

Jemma tosses her pair of eights down with a shake of her head. “What do you mean?” 

 

“If you don’t want to go to the waterpark,” May clarifies, nodding toward the other three. “They can go and we’ll use up all the margarita mix.”  

 

“Oh.” Jemma bites her lip. “I don’t - if you want to go, I don’t want to -” 

 

“I’ve been to more waterparks than I ever needed to,” May assures her. 

 

Relief breaks across Jemma’s face and she gives May a grateful look. “I just… I’m not ready for that yet. It’s ridiculous I suppose, because it’s been so long since….” 

 

She trails off and gathers the cards to redeal. 

 

“There’s no expiration date on that sort of thing,” May says. “It takes as long as it needs to take.” 

 

…

 

Everyone’s up early the next morning, getting ready to go to the park or, in May and Jemma’s case, because they’re naturally early risers. 

 

“We don’t have to go, you know,” Daisy says, pausing midway through stuffing a towel into her backpack. Jemma’s sitting on the edge of her bed making sure she has enough sunscreen and water packed in there as well. 

 

Jemma makes a noise in her throat to dismiss the concern. “You can’t miss out on something like this. Who knows when we’ll get another opportunity?” 

 

“I feel guilty ditching you.” 

 

“You’re hardly ditching me. May and I have lots of plans.” 

 

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “Anyway, we should’ve thought about you not being big on water before we made such a big deal about it.”

 

“Daisy,” Jemma says and smiles. “It’s fine.”

 

“Ready to hit the road?” Bobbi asks, swinging into the doorway. 

 

“Yeah, all set,” Daisy says, standing and hefting the bag over her shoulder. Her eyes fall on Jemma again though and she wavers. 

 

Bobbi’s also been paying close attention the past few days. She’s noticed the way they’re always finding each other with their eyes, as if to reassure themselves of the others’ presence. She’s noticed how Jemma goes to bed in the room she shares with May, but ends up in Daisy’s bed every morning. 

 

If she didn’t know better, Bobbi’d assume they’re hooking up and not think on it much more. But she does know better. The looks they exchange, maybe without realizing it, aren’t longing, they’re anxious. The way Daisy holds onto Jemma, even in sleep, is like she’s trying to anchor them both in this reality. Bobbi knows they all went through their own kinds of hell, and that Jemma and Daisy went through theirs together. And it strikes her that this might just be the first significant amount of time they’ll be spending away from each other since all of that happened.

 

She moves forward to wind an arm around Daisy’s shoulders and offer Jemma a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, shorty, I’ll keep a close eye on her for ya.”

 

…

 

“This is a bad idea,” Daisy says, but she’s too far along to back out now. They’re already at the top of a very  _ very  _ tall staircase. Already sitting in a giant raft waiting for the ride attendant to let go and send them barreling down a sixty foot drop. 

 

“You can fly,” Elena points out, nudging her with her foot.

 

“You can fly?” Bobbi asks incredulously. “When did that happen?”

 

“I can manipulate air molecules to propel myself up or slow my fall,” Daisy amends.

 

“Fly,” Elena says.

 

“Sort of.” 

 

“Either way, even if you fall out, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

 

“That’s not the -” but Daisy’s last word is lost on a wild shriek as the attendant lifts the barrier and they’re swept over the drop with the current. 

 

It takes all of a minute to plummet and careen their way to the bottom, at the end of which Elena is laughing gleefully and Daisy’s heart is in her mouth.

 

“Alright?” Bobbi asks, helping Daisy climb out of the raft. 

 

“I think I left my internal organs at the top,” Daisy says. 

 

“Just wait until we go on the toilet bowl.” Elena’s grin worries her just a little.

 

“Oh god,” Daisy mutters, but Elena’s excitement is infectious. The whole atmosphere is infectious. And it’s pretty nice to be able to  _ enjoy _ the adrenaline surges for a change. 

 

“So… lazy river? They’ve got cute lifeguards over there,” Bobbi says as they meander between bright blue pools and fake palm trees.  

 

“Wait, wait,” Elena says and points to a set of brightly colored slides lined up side by side like lanes. “I’ll race you.” 

 

…

 

It’s the cursing that draws Jemma’s attention. She’s been immersed in one of the many books that have piled up on her to-read list for the better part of the morning, only vaguely aware that May has moved from her tai chi mat to the kitchen. But the cursing gets her attention and, even more intrigued by what May could possibly be doing in a kitchen than by the article on regenerative medicine, she marks her page and goes to investigate. 

Jemma covers her mouth to muffle a snort of laughter, stopping in the doorway. It looks as though the mini fridge has exploded. 

 

“What on earth are you doing?” She asks, gaze wandering over the bowl of egg shells, open milk carton, flour-dusted counter, and finally May and the mysterious yellow goo splattered over her t-shirt. 

 

“ _ Trying _ ,” May snarls, tossing the fork she was clutching to the counter with a clatter and more spattering of the yellow goo, “to make this stuff  _ blend _ .” 

 

“You’re…. cooking?” Jemma says disbelievingly. 

 

“Baking,” May huffs, and glares at the box of Betty Crocker cake mix on the table.

 

“I didn’t know you baked,” Jemma comments, mouth only quirking a little. 

 

May scowls. “I don’t. But tomorrow’s July second.”

 

“Daisy’s birthday,” Jemma says, nodding her understanding. 

 

“She should at least get a birthday cake,” May says. “But this stupid mix is too runny.” 

 

“Hmm,” Jemma says and begins to rummage through the cupboards. 

 

May watches warily as Jemma pulls out a few boxes and bottles and begins tossing in ingredients. “That’s not on the recipe.” 

 

“I’m afraid we’re a bit past following the recipe,” she says with slight smirk. “Baking is just edible chemistry, and I happen to have a Ph.D. in chemistry. See? It’s already starting to work.” 

 

She scoops a spoonful of the batter up and lets it ooze off the spoon to illustrate, beaming in a way May has not seen in a long time.

 

“And it’s not going to taste like burnt rubber?” May checks, picking up one of the bottles Jemma had pulled from the cupboard. 

 

“No, of course not!” And Jemma is off on a long explanation of molecules combining under certain conditions and a lot of other things May doesn’t follow, but listens to with interest nonetheless. 

 

At the very least, she thinks as they stick the cake in the oven a half hour later, the thought has to count for something.

…

 

“You guys didn’t have to get me a cake,” Daisy says, watching Jemma proudly lift it from a cupboard. “I mean you totally did because I’m a foster kid who didn’t know my real birthday until two years ago, but I’m still supposed to say you didn’t have to.” 

 

“Oh we didn’t buy it,” May says. 

 

“Please tell me you didn’t just find it sitting on someone’s porch rail,” Daisy says, eyeing the bright blue frosting and somewhat lopsided shape.

 

“May made it,” Jemma declares, setting it squarely in front of Daisy and grabbing a lighter. 

 

“May… made it?” Daisy sounds like she’s not sure what the words mean.

 

“Jemma helped, so it’s probably edible,” May reassures them, since Daisy isn’t the only one eyeing the concoction with new hesitancy. 

 

“You really made me a cake?” Daisy swallows some of the embarrassing tightness out of her voice. 

 

“Well I figured you should have at least one lopsided, home-baked cake on your actual birthday,” May says. 

 

She’s sitting across from Daisy, arms folded on the table and as passive as ever, but Daisy’s spent long enough studying her apparent non-expressions to see the hint of a smile there. 

 

“Everyone stand back, I’m eating this entire thing right now,” she says, grabbing a fork. 

 

“You’ll have to be faster than me,” Elena warns, she and Bobbi diving for their own forks.

 

“Wait, wait, we have to sing!” Jemma cries as the three of them fall upon the cake like ravenous hyenas. “At least blow out the candles first.” 

 

Daisy gives an obligatory puff to the flaming 29. May hands Jemma the last fork.

 

“Better claim your share.”

…

 

The last day of their stay is the Fourth of July. The fireworks start long before the sun starts to set, driveway displays set off in the parking lot that whistle and shriek more than they ignite, sparklers and snappers they can hear all the way at the pool. When the sun finally starts to sink low, they grab hoodies and don bugspray and join the crowd milling in the direction of the field where the big show is to be set off.

 

“I like this birthday a lot better than my last one,” Daisy says, helping Bobbi spread a blanket out on the grass and flopping down on it. “It’s like they’re lighting up the sky for me. Two days late, but hey, it’s still one hell of a party.”

 

“If anyone warrants this kind of celebration, I’d say it’s you,” Bobbi says with a quirk in her lips, propping herself up on the other side of the blanket. 

 

“Ugh, I don’t want you to jet off to the unknown tomorrow,” Jemma says miserably, dropping down between Bobbi and Elena and tucking herself under Bobbi’s arm. 

 

“Try not to think about it,” Bobbi advises, giving her a squeeze. “But now that it’s been over a year, Hunter and I are hoping things have blown over enough for us to visit more often.” 

 

“You better,” Daisy says. 

 

May sits cross-legged in the grass at their heads. “We could use you two around base.” 

 

“We’ll do our best, you have my word.” 

 

The first flare streaks across the star-strewn sky and they all fall quiet to watch its progress. It bursts in a shower of green and scarlet and draws a reflexive “Ohhhh” from the crowd, the heavy boom following only once the light has died. 

 

“I can feel it in every part of me,” Daisy murmurs. She’s pressed flat to the earth and the soundwaves sing through her bones. 

 

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Jemma frets, propping herself up to see her better. 

 

Daisy’s smiling though. Another shower of colorful light explodes above their heads, illuminating her face bright as day. “No. We finally found some good vibrations, I think.”

 

Elena slips her fingers through Daisy’s on one side and Jemma’s on the other. Jemma pillows her head back against Bobbi’s shoulder, Bobbi’s arm coming up in a loose loop around her chest. All four of them tilt their heads back, taking in the colors and patterns and gasping now and then. But May doesn’t look up. She lets the booms roll over her and watches the lights sparkling in their eyes.  


End file.
